


Subconsciously Selfish

by sherlocked221



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: Mike sees Peter out in the sun and feels the need to go and make sure he's wearing suncream...Even though he's in a wetsuit...





	Subconsciously Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while i was at work... Can you believe?

Mike looked out at the beach from the band stand. It sprawled behind the Pad. Waves lapped at the sand, the sun crystallized every grain, every ripple. It was quite beautiful. A perfect day.

This is what Mike lived for. He hadn’t come from much, not a rich family, not that well off, nor one of these showbiz families like Davy or Micky. He’d come from modest beginnings to this. To sitting on a windowsill gazing out at the beautiful landscape he lived in. Lived in. Not visited. Resided in. Now that was something.

And, though he never believed he’d love it quite as much as he did, he had a family here. He had three great friends, one of which could fully appreciate where he was coming from. It was the very boy frolicking out by the sea, dressed in a wetsuit, salt water darkening his sometimes blond, sometimes light brown bob.

Mike fondly smiled at Peter, though the boy couldn’t see him. He was just thinking, thoughts making him grin, if really only to himself. Peter had that effect on him. He was a ray of sunshine, the very thing that made Mike appreciate all he had now, spreading a hippy positivity over everything. Mike wished he could be like that. He often saw Peter as the Yang to his Yin- if that was the right way around. What Mike meant was that he was the shadow; he could be strict, pessimistic, quiet, while Peter was free, open, optimistic and sweet.

He even laughed at the very difference people could see in this moment. On such a lovely day, Peter was out in the light, bathing himself in golden shine of the sun, while Mike was sitting, curled up inside, just enjoying the idea of being inside.

Screw that! It was a nice day and Mike was bored. Without anyone to look after, he felt quite lost, bored. If he would only go outside and have a go at his bandmate for not wearing suncream, whether he was or not, then it would count as enjoying the outside first hand. He stood up, feeling clumsy. Peter was often the clumsy one in the group. In fact, they all were, thinking about it, but Peter was as clumsy in his thoughts as he was in his actions. But watching the kid outside that day, you wouldn’t have have known he was at all inelegant. That’s what made Mike feel so bad himself as he drew himself to his feet. His lanky legs stumbled over one another, his elongated arms provided no help. Meanwhile, Peter looked perfectly at home out there, walking around without a single wrong footing, wading through the waves effortlessly. Mike was about to look like the uncool Dad stalking down the beach.

“Pete!” He called. The kid turned his head to the sky as though God were calling him. On any other day, probably if they were in a more difficult situation, Mike would’ve found that annoying. He would’ve rolled his eyes and sighed. But he couldn’t find the malice within him to do so. He found himself smiling instead.

“Pete, here Babe.”

“Mike?” The soft, sparkling brown eyes finally met Mike’s dark ones. “You came out?”

“Well,” Grumpily, Mike crossed his arms in front of his chest. Though he wore a shirt and a pair of flares, he felt exposed. Far too hot, but exposed. “I came to make sure you’re wearing suncream.”

“Oh…” A look off to the side was enough to tell Mike that Peter had forgotten. The kid glanced up shyly, an apologetic smile stretching his lips. Mike shook his head softly.

“Right, well, you should be.” He lectured, “Do you want to come back to the Pad and we’ll get some on you?”

How was it that even a suggestion like that made Peter’s eyes light up. He squealed an enthusiastic, “Yeah!” and followed after Mike. Mike shook his head again, not out of disappointment or anything. If it was disappointment, it was in himself. What he was doing now was selfish. What he was doing now was random, and he knew exactly why he was doing it. He cursed himself, wishing he could have just stayed inside the Pad, found something else to do, rather than bothering Peter, make it seem like he was in trouble.

As they stepped through the back door, the lower light sent floaters over their eyes. They blinked several times before they adjusted.

“Right,” Mike strode forward, heading towards the bathroom. Now that he had started this facade, he was going to follow it through. He opened their cupboard behind the mirror in the bathroom where they kept toiletries and sorted through Davy’s hair products, Micky’s bubble bath and the almost finished, twisted toothpaste tube to find some sun cream. Once he retrieved it, he turned to the door, only to see Peter leaning already in the doorway, looking at him expectantly.

“Mike…” He whined softly.

Slightly taken aback, Mike clasped both hands around the suncream bottle and glanced down at the floor, “Yeah, what is it babe?”

“Um… you… well…” The kid stammered. He kept looking off to the side, as though his lines were written on the wall. Even if they were, it seemed like he couldn’t read them.

“Think about it first, Pete.” Mike encouraged. Peter was oddly shy for someone who often blurted things out without thinking at all. He suddenly neared Mike, bringing his hands up to cup Mike’s on the bottle, and reaching up on his tippy toes to kiss the taller man. It was merely a gentle peck on the cheek, but Mike was instantly taken by it. It was what he’d been craving, he just would not admit it to himself.

As the kid rocked back onto the rest of his bare feet, Mike opened his eyes that had fluttered shyly shut. In that moment, Peter was no longer the one nervous. The tables had turned in that brief second, that kiss.

“Is that what you wanted?” The smaller man asked. Unable to meet his sunny gaze, Mike nodded his head. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

For a moment, Mike hesitated. He hadn’t really thought about these things himself, though they gnawed at the back of his mind. He hadn’t pondered on it.

“It’s still… new… to me.” He slowly admitted. Peter nodded.

“It is to me too.” He said, “But there’s just us here. There’s no reason to feel strange when it’s just me.”

“I know.” Mike replied. Feeling it was futile now, he looked stupidly down at the bottle, still in his hands, and placed it atop the toilet. He then turned back to Peter, took his hands, pulled him into another kiss and bringing him to the wall beside the door. He simultaneously closed the door in case their other two mates came back home. It was a bit over-precautious, since he was well aware of when Davy and Micky would come home and they still had two hours, but he couldn’t help it. He had to take every precaution.

They rarely ever used the lock on the toilet door, so it squeaked as he tried to shut it. It was the only thing that distracted them from the kiss as it made Peter chuckle, but soon after, Mike had claimed that happy mouth with his own, stolen the laughs that escaped it in hope of feeling the constant joy that Peter seemed to.

As the kiss intensified, Mike sought to reach behind the boy sandwiched between the wall and himself to find the zipper of the wetsuit. It took a bit of fumbling, pulling apart the rubber of the suit in search of the cool plastic teeth, but Peter didn’t mind because, as Mike looked, he inadvertently drew Peter in for a closer embrace. Finally, Mike had hold of it and released Peter from the tight skin of black fabric he wore.

He peeled it away, revealing the golden tan Peter had picked up over several days outside. Mike felt that he looked like a ghost next to him. He had this stupid feeling of inadequacy against such a specimen as beautiful and talented as Peter. Not that he dwelled on it long. He, instead, marveled in the beauty, pressing his lips against the smaller man’s shoulders, his hot chest, downwards as Peter continued to shimmy out of the wetsuit. Soon enough, Mike was on his knees, dragging the garment desperately from the floor. He couldn’t even think of how lewd this must look.

“Mike,” Peter sighed, “Won’t I taste…”

Mike didn’t even care anymore. Peter had tasted quite salty from the sea and his own sweat, but that was not going to stop him from fitting his mouth around his semi hard-on. First, though, he spat onto his hand and wrapped that around him. Peter bucked.

“Sorry, sorry.” He gasped, though he’d done nothing wrong. Mike shushed him soothingly as he began to draw his hand up and down. The pleasure muted Peter’s apologies. Once he was coated in Mike’s saliva, Mike tested the taste with the tip of his tongue, swirling it experimentally around the head. Peter shuddered pleasantly. With the positive reaction, Mike decided that it was a ‘go head’ to place his lips around it, sucking him deep into his mouth.

He coaxed many a moan from Peter’s. The boy had a habit of saying his name, ‘Mike… Mike Mike….’ over and over like a kid trying to get attention. He already had all of Mike’s attentions. Mike, with one hand, lovingly stroked the base of Peter’s member that his mouth and throat were too sensitive to reach, while his other hand clung to Peter’s hip. Peter then moved his own hand, the one that had been hanging imobile by his side, curling his fingers around Mike’s. Though a seemingly filthy act, it was tender.

“Miiike.” Peter’s tone changed to warning. Mike hummed in reply. It didn’t seem to help the situation, “I’m going to… I’m going to…” Out of either embarrassment or lack of air in his lungs sufficient to speak, Peter’s words failed him. But Mike got it.

He let his mouth fall slack and removed the slick member from it to ask, “Do you want to, or would you like…?”

He did not have to finish his sentence too, “Just this for now.” Peter spoke quickly, desperately, “I promise I’ll do you after, I just…”

Mike had already closed his mouth around Peter once more, redoubling his efforts. Not long later, he felt him tense. A salty, slick taste encompassed his tongue, so he drew back and used his hand to bring his friend to climax. A series of calls for ‘Mike’ escaped Peter’s mouth again and again until he’d spilt his load over his friend’s hand.

Once the shockwaves of pleasure subsided, Peter watched Mike reach for tissue.

“Sorry.” He whispered, cheeks filling with colour. Mike shook his head, smiling once more.

“How can you apologise for that?” He retorted, finishing wiping his hand clean, then looking up from under the charcoal wave over his left eye. “It was real groovy.”

“You can say that again.” Peter replied, beaming. Suddenly, after a short moment of silence, a moment of catching his breath, he remembered his promise, “Oh, do you want me to…?”

“Best we go into the bedroom.” Mike suggested sweetly. He expected nothing from Peter. He would’ve been totally happy had they ended up snuggling down on the sofa or playing a board game or something. He half agreed, not out of selfishness, but because Peter seemed eager. As Mike stood, his bandmate grasped his hand, leading him out of the bathroom.

“Come on!”

“Alright, no need to pull my arm off!”

“Mike.” Peter said quietly, slowing his steps until he stood next to the taller man.

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

“You too, babe.”


End file.
